Unfixable

Languish

Getting across the channel was pretty easy. The ship barely took two hours to arrive at Dover. From there, Elijah had already sent a car to collect them. Fancy-ass prick. Most people just used public transport or carriages, though he'd actually expected to see a lot more. He'd heard England was a little behind the times as far as modernisation went, but there was a surprising amount of cars about. The biggest downside of the whole trip was the fact he was stuck in a wheelchair. He'd been too off-balance to stand on the ship, and he didn't exactly have crutches hanging around to help. The worst thing besides that was the constant staring. He could feel people ogling him as yet another brave soldier returned irreparably damaged. The pity was sickening. He did, however, manage to muster a small smile and thank you for the pretty blonde girl who gave him a sprig of yellow flowers to thank him for his service.

He'd stared sullenly at those little flowers the whole way to Kent. He'd written to Nines the day he'd woken up, hoping to hear something positive about his men. The solemn response had arrived just before they'd left the little French hospital. He was the only one in his unit known to have survived. They'd found Miller and Pearson, or what was left of them, not far from where he'd been found. They'd been killed in the blast. Ripley had been found alive, but died from sepsis within a week. Jackson and Jenkins were unaccounted for, but there were a lot of unrecognisable bodies, and parts of bodies, that hadn't been identified yet.

He couldn't help feeling bad. He had over a decade on some of those kids. They had mothers. Sweethearts. Sisters. People waiting for them to come home. Sure, he had Nines, but how long would that last? Especially now. No one wanted to be saddled with an invalid for life. There was Elijah, but he was pretty sure he'd forget him the moment the next big project came along. Chloe would have been sad, but she had Elijah. He'd soon cheer her up enough to stop her moping. He forced a small smile as he noticed Chloe watching him. He didn't want her to worry too much.

At the estate, he was once again forced into a wheelchair to be pushed around like a sack of potatoes. It looked like a huge estate. The land spilled out for miles around them, with stables and hunting grounds. The mansion before them loomed about four storeys tall as he was wheeled up a temporary ramp. Elijah was cheerfully waiting in the doorway, explaining that he'd been placed in a room on the ground floor for now until he had a little more mobility. Gavin had remained tight-lipped as he'd listened to him raving about his latest developments. Noticing his sour mood, Elijah had suggested he rest. He'd had a long journey, and it was already nearly nightfall. Gavin had agreed and taken a little supper in his room. He'd barely eaten the hearty stew. Not because it tasted bad, but because he just wasn't hungry.

That was where he remained for three solid days. He languished in bed. When he wasn't sleeping, he read over Nines' letter or stared at the little sprig of flowers, which was rapidly drying out. Chloe had tried putting it in water, but that had only extended its short life by an extra day or so. She was endlessly patient. She knew he was dealing with a lot. Not just his injury, but being in a new and unfamiliar environment. The huge, drafty space. Unfamiliar food. Staff he didn't know bustling about. Even the air smelled different. His current dependence on the wheelchair made him reluctant to do anything or go anywhere. There were other men out there. Other soldiers. Others like him. No-hopers. Lost causes pulled back from the brink. And for what?

"Gavin...will you eat breakfast?" Chloe's voice was soft as she tried to coax him up. Gavin shook his head as he turned over onto his stomach, which fucking hurt with the wound in his side. He tried to hold back the whimpering sob as pain lanced through his body. "Is it your leg again? Does it still hurt?" Gavin huffed into the pillow as a wave of bitterness washed over him. How could it hurt? It wasn't even there! He swallowed as he felt tears fill his eyes again. All he had was a useless fucking stump, so why did it fucking hurt so much? He flinched as he felt a gentle hand on his back. Chloe soothed him a while longer before suggesting they try some painkillers. Before he could have them, he had to eat. Otherwise, the medication would make him sick.